Far Cry 5: Awakening
by BoredZero
Summary: The Lord works in mysterious ways. Well, not today. Crossover with The Division. Rated M for depictions of violence, torture and foul language. Because we're talking about Far Cry.


Disclaimer: I do not own Far Cry. Or any other franchise that may be mentioned here.

A/N: Here we are again, with another story that will probably go unfinished. Life sucks, but them's the breaks. I'll try to not let this one go unfinished since the endings to Far Cry 5 (among other things) seem a little kooky to me.

* * *

If there's one thing that I absolutely hate about having to balance school and work, it's when one stops you from being able to do the other.

But hey, apparently my college was offering a couple of extra credits for spending a semester traveling around the country to various law enforcement agencies to see the differences and variations in police departments and how peace keeping is carried out.

The only bright spot of the trip was that A, the mix of students leaned more towards the fairer sex, and B, Anne (who I'd been crushing on for the last couple of months since I met her in a theater class) had come along.

So here I am, out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere near my stashes with only my absolute basic EDC kit, sitting on a bus as we made our way onto the next destination.

The bus was pretty cushy – since it was one of those nice, big coaches with the comfy seats and TVs. There weren't enough people to fill the bus all the way, but hey, when everyone has two seats for themselves to use on long ass drives? Fuck it – saves everyone a little fatigue. Having the extra room is nice, since the bus can double as a makeshift place to sleep in if it comes right down to it.

Still, it's nice every once in a while to get off the bus and stretch our legs.

So here we were, at a gas station in Hope County during a nice, sunny and breezy day, where there was nothing all around us but a couple of cars with a weird cross painted on their side doors, sedans with the word "Sinner" spray painted on the front, and…

Goddamn it.

"Out of all the places we had to drive through, we had to drive through cult territory." I muttered underneath my breath as I walked back in towards the tiny gas station shop, glancing at my watch.

See, in my long, _long_ experiences with video games, when people start getting unusually friendly and repeating symbols show up, there's usually a cult not far behind. Sometimes it's a benign cult, like people who take Warhammer 40k too seriously (or use it in lieu of pre-existing religions, because fuck all of them) and sometimes it's a ridiculous cult that should've been honestly just killed the fuck off a long ass time ago for the shady shit they all pull.

Given that we're stuck in the middle of wide open territory where only a few people still have cell service (somehow, or in my case, through the use of technology not widely available), I was hoping fervently that it was the former.

Fortunately, nothing happened at the gas station of note, save for one hipster looking fuck walking in. It was clear he and the owner of the truck stop didn't get on very well, and the man literally stank of unwashed shit, but none of the locals dared to meet his eye or say anything despite the man's seemingly polite "Blessings of the lord upon you".

I tuned him out, and when he tried to talk to me (apparently he was talking to everyone in the place) I pretended to be deaf.

His patronizing response told me that this man was probably an asshole.

Fortunately, he didn't stay long – and neither did his posse out front with the white washed pickups and that annoying cross again.

Definitely cult. The real question is which type were they – your usual garden variety power trip cult, your doomsday cults, your insane, ancient tradition cult…

Well, it didn't matter.

Next thing I know, we're all marched back onto our bus at gunpoint, told to sit down and one of the cultists shoots our professor (who was also a retired cop/federal agent) and takes the wheel.

* * *

Day One.

The town we're in is called Fall's End, and it's very clear that almost nobody here is here because they want to be. There's a lot of makeshift cages inside these houses where they're keeping us.

My classmates are scared shitless, especially since they took the girls from our class and drove them somewhere else.

Most of the day was spent in silence. There were some who tried to plead, beg and bargain their way out, but they were quickly told otherwise from some of the others they kept there. From what I overheard, they could only have been the town's previous occupants.

I however, didn't say anything. Panicking wouldn't do anything, and until I received my activation signal, I was nothing more than a wolf in sheep's clothing. Until I get that signal, if I wind up dying because they decide to execute me, there is absolutely nothing I can do.

Even if I could probably pick these locks, break out, kill the one, inept guard they have guarding this place, take his weapon and clothes, pretend to be him, and kill everyone else in town.

I glanced down at my watch. Still nothing.

I did the only thing I could, and triggered my distress beacon. Whether or not it would be answered would depend on whatever the brass decides, so I simply laid back, and waited.

"Hey, kid."

I sighed, answering. "What?"

"You haven't said a thing ever since you got here."

"There's nothing _to_ say." I mused. "Why are you still here? Thought they hauled away all the women."

"No, they just hauled away everyone from your class." She corrected, sliding up against her cage (which was right next to mine).

"They'll get theirs in time." I answered calmly.

"Oh hell, don't tell me you're another "believer"." She scoffed. "Let me guess. 'God will save us!' or 'This is just a trial from God, we must remain strong!' Give it up kid, we haven't had any phone or internet service with the outside world for weeks now, and the local law's either dead, dying or hiding."

I smirked. "If you think I'm a God fearing man, you've got another thing coming. Personally, I think God and the Bible are a load of shit."

"Are you fucking nuts?"

"Maybe." I shrugged. "What are they gonna do, beat me?"

"YES!"

"Good, it'll save someone else a beating for a time."

"Do you really think that's going to change anything?"

"It might." I shrugged. "Depending on how they treat us, they'll either die screaming for their God or rot away in a cell."

"Haven't you been listening, kid? There's _nobody_ coming."

"Look, you and I can disagree all damn day on this, so if we could, can we just skip the argument?" I asked.

"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."

We lapsed into an uneasy silence. Not that there was much to do.

Time passed.

"Tell me about this cult." I said.

"Is this really the time, kid?" She asked.

"Knowledge is power." _Hide it well_.

"Alright, fine. These guys that are keeping us here are from a cult called the "Project at Eden's Gate". We call 'em peggies for short. Buncha crazy doomsday bastards who worship "The Father". His real name's Joseph Seed. Fucker's a real piece of work."

"What about the guy who's in charge of these guys?"

"That's John." She answered quietly. "Fucker's a real sadist. Tortures people until they confess, and then he tattoos their sin their skin before he peels it off."

I sighed. "That's not gonna work for me. You see, I'm trying to grow some chest hair and having my top layer of skin ripped off isn't really gonna help my case." I snarked.

"This isn't a fucking joke, kid."

"Might as well be from where I'm sitting." I shot back. As long as they didn't search me, I'd be fine.

Even if they did search me, well…we'll see.

"So, any chance they'll beat us today, or is that not on the introduction menu?"

She laughed forlornly. "No. Not today. Today's just to let you stew. Tomorrow is when he starts the beating. He'll pick the strongest one of you, and make the rest of us watch. But he's not gonna cripple you or anything since they still need you, either as an experiment or as a soldier."

Aw, shit. This is gonna suck.

"Can't be any worse than my last breakup." I chuckled. "Mind telling me your name before I get my jaw broken?"

"It's Mary. Mary May Fairgrave."

"I dunno, from where I'm sitting, this is a pretty shitty place to die."

"If that's your idea of a joke…"

"Hey, if I gotta die, I'd rather die laughing."

More silence.

"Isn't this the part where you tell me your name?"

I smirked. "Sure. You can call me Alaric."

"That's not your real name."

"No, but it'll do. Not my first choice either as far as names go, but hey, if the symbolism fits…"

"I'll take your word for it."

More silence.

"Hey, kid...Alaric. Might wanna get some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna suck."

Don't have to tell me twice. I glanced down at my watch. _Beacon activated. Monitoring…_ was what was written on it.

That meant that whoever was on the other end was watching. At the very least, they would bear the news of my passing to my family and friends.

"Praise the Emperor for his sacrifice. As he endures, so shall we. We, who are the Hunters of Daemon shall strive eternally In His Name."

"I thought you said you weren't a God fearing man."

"Different God. Different rules. Different time."

"If you say so."

"We, the Order of the Hammer shall delve into dark shadows. We shall seek out the tainted, we shall pursue the vilest evil. It is we who stand guard. Our Eternal Watch shall not falter. For we are the Ordo Malleus."

"Oh great, I'm stuck next to another crazy person." Mary groaned.

I continued the rest of the Canticle in my head. Fictional as it was, I always felt reassurance from those words.

* * *

Day Two.

They gave us all water and food. All of it vegetarian (small victory there), but I ate it warily, unsure as to whether or not it was laced with a psychotropic or something. You could never tell with cults.

Most ate quickly, under the threat of pain if we took our sweet time.

So, naturally, I took my sweet time – just long enough to test them. I was struck across the back of my head for my defiance.

Once we were done, we were hauled outside and told to sit in a seating area specially arranged for these beatings.

Except me. Apparently, the leader had heard what I said last night, and decided to test me.

So he threatened me with starvation, with dehydration, with pain, and with sleep deprivation – claiming that I would eventually beg him for release from this torment before John would deliver me Unto the Father.

"You gonna start or we gonna stand here all day?"

They tied me to the pole and the leader gave them free reign to do as they wished, as long as it wasn't crippling or anything disfiguring.

So they went at it.

I woke up later, in the night, my entire body aching. I could feel my swollen face, but I could still see fairly well out of both eyes, which was something at least.

"Oh, thank God, you're still alive." Mary breathed next to me.

"Yep." I groaned, shifting my position so I faced her. I felt around in my pockets. My phone was still there, still off, as was my tools and my backup piece. They really didn't bother checking anything.

My watch was still on me too. It was 2042.

"What happened?"

"The same thing that always happens. You were chosen. You were beaten. You passed out. Nobody joined up though."

"Really? Why?"

I could feel her disbelief. "Are you serious? You threatened to gouge out their eyeballs and skull fuck anyone dumb enough to think they'd be better off with these fucks."

"Huh. Must've been dreaming about Full Metal Jacket again."

"You're really not gonna stop, are you?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Look, the whole macho act is all cute and all, but you can't keep doing this. You are going to die."

"Lady, from what you tell me, we're all dead anyway – unless someone else saves our asses or unless something else happens."

"We've been hoping for a miracle for weeks. All we got was you city folk. Now another man's dead and you look like you've got one foot in the grave."

"Trust me when I say this, my first ex hits a lot harder."

That was a lie. I didn't have an ex. Or a first.

"Who are you, really?"

"I'm just a guy on vacation." I answered, chuckling. "Wake me up when the beating starts again."

* * *

Day 3.

So this time, after making me watch everyone eat guiltily as they looked my way during mealtime and stringing me up, the leader held up a syringe.

"You know, I gotta give you credit. You're stronger than most. But you got off easy yesterday since you passed out, so I'm gonna give you a little somethin' that'll help the message _sink_ _in_ a little better." He jested, inserting the syringe into my neck.

It didn't take long to take effect.

It took all I had to not try and scream from how hard my heart was pounding. Sweat had already started to form on my skin, and it was actually a pretty chilly day. The world also seemed to be in focus just a little more than yesterday, and I could feel the ropes binding me to the log a little better. Every crease, every fiber…

Son of a bitch.

"Ah, you've realized it. We call this little cocktail the "Kiss of Heaven". And when we're done with you, you'll be begging for us to stop.

Little chance of that asshole.

"I've always wanted to do LSD." I quipped.

He jammed the cattle prod into my stomach.

Now, I've been tasered before for training – but SERE training or no, electricity still fucking hurts in a way that few other methods ever do – because you lose all control of your body.

Muscles you thought you had control over, you lose. And when you get shocked repeatedly for an entire day, well…the results aren't pretty.

I'm just lucky I had an empty bowel when we started this entire mess. Nothing to shit. Nothing I could do about the piss, though.

Time seemed to crawl forward. I could see every whisker on the man's face, every pore, every blackhead…man, this guy needs to wash his face.

By the time they cut me down, I didn't even have the strength to move. So they left me there, in the middle of the street, lying in my own piss, with only one guard to keep watch.

I passed out.

* * *

Day Four.

Today's torture was a little more interesting, in that, there was none.

Apparently, having not broken after the Kiss of Heaven was a big deal, so the head honcho himself showed up.

John Seed.

He pulled up front and leaned down, tsking.

He made some speech about how this isn't how they were supposed to treat guests-especially with such subpar entertainment. So he ordered his men to take everyone else away, to give them food and water, fresh clothes and a chance to clean themselves for once.

But not me.

No, not me. He had a seat brought out and sat by my side, drinking out of a glass of water as I laid there, motionless, unable to move from exhaustion and pain.

I tuned him out too.

When he wasn't looking, I glanced at my watch. Nothing.

I let out a hollow chuckle, whispering "Guess I'll die."

* * *

Day Five was a reprieve. Nobody was tortured. On John's order, to reward my steadfast defense, as a token of respect, everyone was given together. I on the other hand, was separated from everyone else and given a room, a change of clothes, a shower, and a meal and water – on the promise that should I escape, he would kill every last person there.

Foolish, I thought. He should've killed me when he had the chance. Not that it means _if_ I get the chance I'll let him off easy.

If this was how he treated his guests, I can only imagine what was happening to the other half of our class.

Murder, torture, indoctrination, illegal gun running, human trafficking, being an absolute ass who loves his own voice and lawyer.

For him to leave me to my own devices without any kind of surveillance, minder or anything…the man must've been absolutely certain I wasn't going to try and pull a fast one.

I suppose this is what Mary meant by making us join the cause. I suppose it made sense. If he could convince me, it would convince everyone else behind me.

I briefly wondered if I should just eat my gun and end it all…but my oath and my duty outweighed whatever pain this idiot could visit upon me.

Nice try, jackass, but I'm not convinced.

I checked my watch once more. _"Reconnecting…"_

Great. My life hanging in the balance because of a connection problem.

At least they were smart enough to not have mirrors or anything else other than the basic toiletries in this place.

But leaving me alone meant they were still unaware I had my gear. My weapon was unmolested, and my rounds were all still there, unfired – with the same imperfection on the manufacturer's name I intentionally made so if my weapon was ever taken from me, I'd know if my rounds were replaced or fucked with.

I washed my own clothes and dried them with the hair dryer, and put them back on. For good measure, I ate the emergency supplies I had stashed in my pockets. Seriously…they were either confident or stupid.

He started talking to me again as I left the bathroom. I tuned him out, pretending to listen to what he had to say.

He asked me a question.

He didn't like my answer.

* * *

Day 6

Today, he had changed his mind. Today was the day I would either join and say "Yes", or today was the day I would be responsible for the deaths of my classmates.

Not quite how I see it, but that's probably how most would.

Basically, if I didn't change my mind by sundown, he would start offing everyone else one at a time every minute until I changed my mind.

I glanced down at my watch. Still nothing.

 _Damn it_.

"Getting pretty close to sundown there, pal. But, I can tell you're a man of strength – _conviction_ , honor. So I'll make you a deal I haven't made with anyone else. I'm going to give you a gun. You kill my lieutenant here, and I'll let everyone here walk free."

Notice, he said "gun" and not "gun" and anything meaning ammunition. Clever. Make me out to be a murderer, in which case, I'll get shot because murder is a sin, or stick to his word and make me out to be a murderer to everyone watching.

So he ordered his lieutenant, the man who had done most of the torturing of me to stand in front of me and give me his gun.

"Time's a ticking, pal."

"So, I kill him with this gun, and you and all of your men let us go, just like that?"

"Just…like that." John grinned, with that shit eating grin of his. He's not gonna let us walk.

"No balls." His lieutenant deadpanned, handing over the gun. I could tell from the weight it was actually empty.

Asshole didn't even give me a single round.

Oh well, I don't need it.

"Last time. I kill him, we walk free."

John rolled his eyes. "YES."

Just as I raised the gun with both hands in my best approximation of a novice who had never handled a gun, I heard that _sweet_ , sweet sound in my coclear implant.

* * *

 ** _"ISAC online. Agent Delta Five One Alpha Six Two, activated. Directive Fifty One is now in effect."_**

I held the gun up to the Lieutenant's face, and I started to laugh a little, shorting my arms by taking a step forward.

The Lieutenant, not knowing why I was laughing, started to join in. John even joined in a little with a chuckle or two.

"You wanna know why I'm laughing?" I asked the Lieutenant.

"No, tell me. Why are you laughing?"

"Because." I pulled the trigger, hearing it click. "You thought you could hand me an empty gun and think I wouldn't notice."

My right hand extended forward, punching the Lieutenant in the eye with the barrel of the empty 1911 as I hit the magazine release, as my left went to his chest rig for his knife, which I took out and stabbed him in the face with. I used him as a shield as I grabbed a fresh magazine from his pistol belt and slammed it home, racking the slide.

I shoved the dead guy into John, knocking him over, and serviced the rest of those assholes with one round each to the head. At a range less than ten meters, it was a fucking cake walk.

John had just managed to throw the dead guy off of him when I shot both his knee caps with the last two remaining rounds in the magazine.

I quickly did a field strip of the guns and tossed both of them into John's face, reaching down to my boots and retrieving my backup piece, shooting John in both shoulders this time.

His confused and pained screams were… _delicious_. I walked over to him, squatting down by his head.

"You know, John – I'll be honest with you." I said, gesturing with my right, Glock 19 still in hand. "No matter what you said to me, no matter what you and your cronies did to me and everyone here, my answer was always going to be the same. There is absolutely no way in hell I would EVER. JOIN. YOU." I said, tapping the barrel of the Glock into his forehead each time a little harder for emphasis.

"Let me tell you a story, John. Once upon a time, there was a group of determined individuals whose job was to simply live life as it came. No more, no less. They were a nebulous group. Nobody really knew enough of each other in this group, but it didn't matter. They were all united in their purpose. Mary, do me a favor and go grab a couple of bottles of booze. One of the best and one of the worst will do. Take the rest of them with you. I don't think you guys wanna see what happens next."

"Yes, we do!" Someone shouted. Murmurs of agreement went around.

"Alright, fine. Just the booze then, Mary. Now then, where was I? Oh yes, purpose. You see, the purpose of this group was to simply _exist_ , just in case, when all hell breaks loose. Extremis malis, extrema remedia. Do you know what that means?"

"Extreme Evil….Extreme…Remedy!" John gasped out, eyes widening. "You're supposed to be a rumor!"

"Very good, John – _very_ good." I smirked. "It's hard, you know. Disaster…it always seems so distant, detached - someone else's struggle in some faraway place. No one saw, or wanted to see this shit you cooked up. Then again, tragedy is always invisible. People turn away from it, run from it if they can. And it's hard…knowing that you _belong_ here, that your purpose lies in all this pain."

Two bottles came into my view. One was Johnny Black, the other was some nameless bottle. I stood up, and started dumping the other bottle all over John, making sure to pour a little down into his face so he knew _exactly_ what I was about to do.

"But someone's gotta be there." I said, flicking my lighter open.

"To pick things up." My thumb spun the wheel, causing the flint to spark and setting the wick ablaze. "To push back. You fucked with the _wrong_ country."

I took a few steps back and tossed it at his face.

His screams didn't bother me, nor did his incoherent begging and pleading. I tore the cork off the bottle of Johnny Black and took a swig as I watched him burn.

* * *

Yes, I took the lines from the Division E3 trailer. Say what you will about the game, but that trailer? Shit, it was brilliantly made.

On the subject of them never taking away any of his shit, chalk it up to overconfidence. Yeah, it's a bit of a stretch, though -I'll admit. Oh well.

If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking through it all the way.


End file.
